


We Rode the Clouds Together

by BulletproofFurniture



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Country Music, Hanzo is a grumpy tsundere, M/M, McCree is silly, Morning Sex, Non-Penetrative Sex, and McCree sings like a god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7222303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletproofFurniture/pseuds/BulletproofFurniture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Jesse.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You’re still doing it.”</p><p>That seemed to wake him up a little bit more; McCree paused and seemed to take stock, finally, of what he was doing and the position he was in. And after a few moments, he propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at Hanzo, sleepy and considering. Hanzo grew almost uncomfortable under his gaze, and was about to bury his face in his pillow when McCree asked, “Do you want me to stop?”</p><hr/><p>McCree and Hanzo have lazy morning sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Rode the Clouds Together

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday fic written for my dear friend [Kelly](http://laser-beam-dinosaurs.tumblr.com), who is an avid Overwatch fan, whereas I am just along for the crazy, wonderful ride. The title is taken from Josh Turner's ["Would You Go With Me."](https://youtu.be/uFz61X2PQTw)
> 
> The working title was 'McDonald's With a Splash of Country Music.' Don't ask. Just enjoy.

When Hanzo woke up, it was before the morning alarm went off, absolutely sweltering under the duvet, and with a large American plastered against him and rutting sleepily against his backside.

Really, he had no room to be embarrassed; after what he and McCree had gotten up to the night before, it was completely stunning that Hanzo would think he had any dignity left. “McCree,” he said flatly, but to no avail. “ _McCree_ ,” he tried again. All he got in response was a sleepy hum and a particularly enthusiastic thrust against his ass. “Jesse,” Hanzo snapped in irritation, which finally rewarded him a violent snort and a shuddering to awareness against his back.

“Mm, whatsit, Hanzo?” McCree asked sleepily, and Hanzo could feel Jesse’s arms wrap tighter around him. Hanzo huffed.

“It is far too early for you to be humping me like a dog in heat, McCree,” he answered testily, ignoring the heat pooling in his stomach from Jesse’s possessive hold. Because it really _was_ too early - in just a few hours they’d be running harsh combat drills, and it was Jesse’s fault they hadn’t got enough sleep the night before.

That didn’t seem to faze McCree, though. “Mm, sorry,” he mumbled, still lazily rolling his hips against Hanzo’s. He rolled his eyes in irritation.

“Jesse.”

“What?”

“You’re still doing it.”

That seemed to wake him up a little bit more; McCree paused and seemed to take stock, finally, of what he was doing and the position he was in. And after a few moments, he propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at Hanzo, sleepy and considering. Hanzo grew almost uncomfortable under his gaze, and was about to bury his face in his pillow when McCree asked, “Do you want me to stop?”

And it wasn’t the rude, arrogant question of a man who already knew what the answer would be; it wasn’t even the annoyingly condescending question of a person who would keep doing it anyway. Jesse wore his sincerity like his sarape, vibrant and unquestionable. He would truly stop if Hanzo asked.

And after a few heartbeats, Hanzo, flushed and embarrassed, turned his face into his pillow and said, “You may continue, if you must.”

Jesse hummed quietly at that, running his right hand, his flesh hand, over the ball of Hanzo’s shoulder and following it with his lips. He resumed rolling his hips against Hanzo, and fully lowered himself back onto the mattress behind him and rubbed his face affectionately between Hano’s shoulderblades. On any other man, Hanzo would call it revenge for the stubble burn he’d undoubtedly left between Jesse’s thighs the night before; but knowing McCree, he wasn’t thinking about the uncomfortable beard rash he was leaving on Hanzo’s back.

Heat sparked inside his stomach at the pleasant burn on his back, and the heat of Jesse’s erection against his backside. His own length began to stiffen in response, and he couldn’t repress a shiver when McCree’s robotic hand passed over one of his nipples. Jesse paused, then deliberately and gently pinched one of Hanzo’s nipples between his metal fingers. Hanzo bit back a groan, and Jesse kissed the back of his neck and with a gentle twist of his fingers, said, “C’mon, let it out, sweetheart.”

Hanzo shuddered and moaned, embarrassed at the pet name, but helplessly aroused. He felt like he would shake apart when Jesse slid his flesh hand down to gently knead his hardening length. “So good for me,” Jesse rumbled, stroking him slowly and steadily, thrusting slow and hard, a reflection of their activities last night.

“D-Don’t _tease_ me,” Hanzo, bit out, flushed and flustered.

“I’d never,” Jesse swore, voice thin with mounting arousal. Hanzo shivered at the sound, and unwittingly canted his hips back against McCree’s. He gasped and ground harder against Hanzo, gripped his length a little tighter.

“M-McCree,” Hanzo pleadedweakly, trying to fight for any purchase against the slick sheets.

“My name,” he growled low in his chest, stroking Hanzo harder and faster, rutting insistently.

“Jesse,” Hanzo cried, and spilled himself over McCree’s fingers. Jesse thrust once, twice, and came over Hanzo’s back with a satisfied groan.

They lay together in the still quiet of early morning, catching their breath and cooling with the duvet kicked off. Hanzo had almost, _almost_ drifted back off…

...when the alarm clock, startling both of them quite badly, started blaring some of the garbage “honky-tonk” that Jesse seemed to enjoy. McCree laughed, and Hanzo groaned. “Turn off that miserable excuse for music,” he said testily. Still chuckling, Jesse peeled himself away and sat up to fiddle with the alarm clock. Without sparing it a thought, Hanzo rolled over and threw an arm across Jesse’s lap, face buried in the crook of his hip.

“Not all country music is terrible, you know,” McCree said, smiling down at Hanzo, amused.

“I’ll believe it when I hear it,” Hanzo grumbled.

The silence settled comfortably over the room once more, McCree’s fingers threading through Hanzo’s hair. He was readying himself to fall asleep once more, when Jesse started [_singing_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s7Tz85_ACuU).

“Would you go with me, if we rolled down streets of fire?” He tucked a lock of hair behind Hanzo’s ear. “Would you hold onto me tighter, as the summer sun got higher? If we rolled from town to town, and never shut it down?” Hanzo shivered and blushed; he hadn’t known McCree’s voice could reach so deep.

“If I gave you my hand, would you take it and make me the happiest man in the world? If I told you my heart couldn’t beat one more minute without you, boy, would you accompany me to the edge of the sea?”

Hanzo didn’t know if he could handle this - McCree crooning to him in the gentle quiet of the morning was almost too much for him to bear. He kept his eyes closed through the song so he wouldn’t have to see what was probably a shamelessly affectionate look on Jesse’s face, saying everything Hanzo felt and didn’t have the words to say.

“I gotta know, would you go with me?” he intoned, scratching his fingers gently against Hanzo’s scalp. “I love you so, so would you go with me?”

For the third time that morning, a gentle quiet blanketed the room. Hanzo had no words - none that could compare, at least. Jesse didn’t seem to mind; his fingers continued their mindless path through Hanzo’s hair as he settled back against the headboard.

After awhile, Hanzo worked up the courage to grumble, “I guess not all country music is bad.”

Jesse laughed outright at that, fingers stilling while he got himself under control. Eventually, he wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes and sighed. “Josh Turner, a classic. That song’s ‘bout seventy years old. He’s got some good stuff.”

Hanzo hummed in reply and enjoyed the quiet, accepting he probably wouldn’t get back to sleep. “Perhaps I wouldn’t mind hearing more, sometime.”

Jesse seemed to think about that for a moment, before [singing energetically](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlE5uDY3Zio), “She said, ain't that Loretta Lynn's Lincoln? Yeah, it's Loretta Lynn's Lincoln! She said, I thought I recognized them two headlights blinkin'! I do declare, that there's Loretta Lynn's Lincoln!”

In a heartbeat, Hanzo sat up on his knees and grabbed a pillow to hit McCree hard in the face. Jesse just roared with laughter, fending off Hanzo’s strikes with arms weak with mirth. Eventually, he caught Hanzo’s wrists and drew him into an amused kiss. Hanzo imagined he could taste the laughter on his lips.

“Let’s get breakfast,” Jesse suggested fondly. He pushed Hanzo’s hair from his face, and Hanzo could feel his cheeks redden against the affection.

“Only if I make it this time,” Hanzo relented. “Chicken fried steak isn’t breakfast, that’s dinner.”

“Aww c’mon,” Jesse laughed, wrapping his hands loosely around Hanzo’s hips. They continued bantering as they got out of bed, ate, and showered, and bickered as they got dressed and ready, and kissed before they left.

And, Hanzo decided, maybe country music wasn’t really _so_ bad.

**Author's Note:**

> The link in the author notes is the original version of 'Would You Go With Me,' and the link in the story before McCree starts singing is the vocals-only version. Listen to whichever version you think fits better!


End file.
